


Fucked Up Friends

by clusband



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: F/M, Pale Makeouts, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Suggestive Themes, dumpster diving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clusband/pseuds/clusband
Summary: Three sweeps ago, you started to notice a few more wifi cafes in the area. This wouldn’t have been a problem, if only it meant that the scum of the earth would keep their gilded asses in their gilded hives and leave your gold ass alone.__Folykl and Kuprum crash a music video, crash in an alley, and then crash a party. In that order. It's one hell of a  date.
Relationships: Folykl Darane/Kuprum Maxlol
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Fucked Up Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tobacco's wonderful album of the same name. That album always reminds me of these two!

Three sweeps ago, you started to notice a few more wifi cafes in the area. This wouldn’t have been a problem, if only it meant that the scum of the earth would keep their gilded asses in their gilded hives and leave your gold ass alone.

Two sweeps ago, a boyband sang their first song at one of the less affordable coffee shops and their video went viral on grubtube. At the time, you and Folykl had laughed outrageously. A bunch of mid- to high- bloods trying to get big in the asscrack of Alternia? Scrubs should have stayed home.

But one sweep ago, the alley you were keeping your shit in was demolished for this boyband to open up a record store. As if they were too rich to settle for listening to music on their palmhusks. It was easy enough to find another alley to fuck off too- cities are ripe with them- but your previous 3-room luxury suites have narrowed to a single studio on the outskirts of town. 

You don’t even have wifi to leech off. Folykl said you might have been living on the streets before, but now you’re really slumming it. Her words hurt more than you’d care to admit.

And, though you don’t really keep up with social justice bullshit, you know the word for what’s happening to you: gentrification. What a stupid word for “highbloods would gild the shit coming straight from their bowels if they were able to.” 

Folykl grabs your hair from her spot draped over your pack and shoulders. Your psionics spark and she leeches them, insatiable. It’s kinda hot.

And that’s why, one minute ago, you and she snuck into the blocked off area where said boyband was filming their latest music video. It’s criminal how easy their mid-blood security is to crack. With no bodyguards or hired muscle, it’s almost like they were asking for you to cause some trouble.

Isn’t it just like nobility to try to scam some free labor by acting dumb as all fuck? 

The camera drones swivel around what you can only assume is the lead singer. His hair is so slimy with whatever gel slicks it back that you’re surprised his crew isn’t being blinded. He’s not even singing; what kind of hack lipsyncs for a music video?

You give Folykl the running commentary. She wasn’t hatched blind, but you know better than to go too into detail. Foly’s easily bored. 

“He looks like he shoved his head between his legs and wiped his hair back with the slick,” you say.

“You think….. He’s capable of getting that……. Wet?” she snickers above you.

“Maybe he was looking at his lusus,”

“Speaking…………. from experience?”

You swat up at her and she laughs some more. The camera drone faces you and you do your best to look like you just stumbled on set. Some of his crew are throwing signs behind him, so you do your best to imitate them, looking as ridiculous as possible.

“What are you… doing?” Folykl asks.

“Dancing,” you’re quiet to stay out of their attention.

“And they haven’t………. Fled.. screaming yet?” You quickly describe the scene to her. She throws her own lazy signs, and then one that is a lot less lazy. You snicker.

At last, the dancing seems to slow down. You sneak up behind them as the lead singer starts to just really start going for it.

“Hey!” You call. Folykl crawls down and off your body like a greasy spider. All of them turn to look at you, ready with some legal bullshit probably. Once the cameras are facing you, you tap Folykl on the arm.

“Gentrify this!” At her cue, both of you drop trou and let the cameras have it. You hear one horrified gasp, two nervous laughs, and one troll shout “hey!” at you. Time to get the fuck out of here!

Grabbing Folykl by the wrist (and then helping her secure her pants), you blast off. You’ve never been the most subtle psionic, but then subtlety has never suited you anyway. She clings to you, addicted to your psionic energy and draining the life out of you all at once.

You’d never admit it, but you feel powerful like this. You’ve got an armful of girlfriend and a brain full of psychic energy and a handful of your girlfriend’s ass as she holds you tight. Maybe most moiraillegiances would be a little more conservative with their hands, but most moiraillegiances are fucking normies.

But though you feel powerful, your energy is draining steadily. Folykl works you like a full-time job in fifteen minutes; you’re spent and your stomach is painfully empty. It takes a minute to get your bearings and scan the familiar skyline, but you’re landing behind your favorite pizza place before you know it.

Folykl sniffs the air, turning her head to the doors of the kitchen on instinct.

“You took me……. On a kick-ass date… and then you ended……. It……… with pizza grub?” 

“Fuck off,” you throw your pack to the ground and lean back against the brick wall, sliding slowly down. The scrape on your skin gives you a slight masochistic thrill; you imagine bio-wires scraping at your skin before they dig in past flesh and muscle. Folykl calls you a pervert and you shiver when you laugh. 

With her fresh burst of energy, she digs through the trash containment box. Normally, you’d sneak in and steal a flavor disk from the pickup counter. But for Folykl, that’s too dangerous. She navigates the world fine with four senses, but she’s slow as fuck and she’s terrible at sweet-talking. 

“What….. Is this….. A.. flavor disk for………… fish fuckers?” She pulls something out of the dumpster regardless of her commentary and sits down next to you. Your laugh sounds weak in your own ears, and you’re starting to get cold chills. Her face noticeably twists as she looks over in your direction.

“Kuprum I can………… barely see you,” she takes stilted steps in your direction. You know she can ‘see’ your psychic energy in a manner of speaking, so you don’t bother to give her shit for the expression. Everything about the way she’s moving reminds you of prey that knows there’s a predator around but can’t quite find them. You watch her halting walk as she sniffs the air for you and your bloodpusher gives a weak start in your chest as butterflies flutter in your gut. 

“Over here,” you pat the ground next to you and she marches up to you. 

She plops the flavor disk- amazingly, still in its box- on the ground before she slides down the wall next to you. Her hand is lukewarm against your cheek as she feels you out. Her comment makes sense to you suddenly; the distance between you fills with the scent of anchovies and squid.

“I can’t tell where your stench ends and the disk’s begins,” you say. She picks up a slice and shoves it against the skin of your cheek. It’s only slightly less grimy than her own hand was, although just as lukewarm. You take a bite out of your slice while you gather your strength. The edges are burnt- explains why its in the trash- but it’s otherwise a pretty good meal if you can ignore the toppings. Anchovies and squid and peas and pineapple; highbloods are fucked up.

Four slices later, and you’re nearly back to fully charged. You pull out your palm husk and search grubtube for new music videos uploaded in the last hour. 

“I almost…. Drained you, idiot,” Folykl interrupts your frantic searching. 

“Epic fail,” you retort idly. You found it! The band’s name is Grubsauce Surprise. What the hell is that supposed to be? She laughs.

“Looking. For your idols?” Her words are muffled past a mouthful of flavor disk. “They…..” She pauses for a long time while she swallows. “Call themselves……….. Grubsauce… supreme.”

“Surprise,” you correct on instinct. You immediately realize your mistake when Folykl grins at you.

“Must be hard to…….. Talk… with their bulges…… crammed in your……. Maw,” she says. You make a slurping noise at her and she throws some cheese at you to hide her laughter.

The video finally loads and you turn the volume up for her. Generally, Folykl is happy to cling to you whenever she feels the need. But, very rarely, she allows you to come to her, and tonight is one of the rare ones. Shoulder to shoulder, you narrate what’s happening in the video.

Or, more importantly, what was never supposed to happen. All around the edges of the video, you and Folykl leave your mark. When they all throw gang signs in unison, Folykl is there to flick off the camera. Some of your psionic flashing lights them up from the side or behind.

Unfortunately, your help has made their music video look sick as hell.

“I can’t believe you’re………….. In a boyband……. You cuck,” Folykl says, bumping you with her sharp elbow to try to lighten your mood. You scroll through the comments, send a few viruses to the particularly brain dead among them. Then you check their chittr, see if there’s some ammunition found there.

You narrate a few particularly awful chits off to her  _ (what’s the difference between your hands and tickets to our upcoming show? We don’t have your hands in our pants… yet ;) See you next wipe! _ ) before you hit the jackpot.

It seems some bigwig has invited them to their private party. Judging by how try-hard their casual chit is in regards to the party, they are bulge-twisted excited for the event. 

“Want to crash a party?” You ask her.

“Fuck no,” she uses the crust from her flavor disk to sop up the grease left behind on the cardboard.

“There’s going to be free food,” you tell her, opening up goregle maps. “And entertainment.”

She turns her empty eye sockets your way, a mostly symbolic gesture. You have her attention.

“And it’s going to be ripe with suckers for easy trolling.”

She lets out a laugh at this and uses you to stand up. Once you’re both up, she kicks at your pack, waits for you to put your arms through the straps and climbs up onto you.

“They must have really………. Liked… our video.”

[Line Break]

A party on this side of town is almost always suspiciously difficult to find. This party, however, is full of try-hards and social climbers. 

And so it only takes fifteen minutes to find the loudest, most pretentious light show you’ve ever seen. The gate is wrought iron around the front and chainlink in the back. Yes, this is the right party. 

Folykl finishes up a bad of tuber crisps and throws the trash towards the sound of the party. She tilts her head towards you and smiles in pride when she hears you laughing. You reach into your pack and retrieve a heap of some garbage that you keep for just this purpose. With a psionic heavy, you dump it all over the party. Highbloods everywhere are screaming in disgust.

“What’s that screaming…… about?” She asks you, even though you know she knows exactly what it’s about. On cue, a teal blood who was smoking through the fence snaps her gaze to the two of you.

“See for yourself,” she says, moving as if she’s the only thing blocking your view.

“I’m blind…… idiot,” Folykl says. The teal blood noticeably pales as she flicks her eyes from Folykl’s eyeless sockets and then to her gaunt cheeks. 

“Better watch out,” you say, approaching the fence. “It’s contagious.”

The teal blood jolts away from the fence as you get closer to her post. Folykl joins you in snickering, pulling at your hair as she sucks the tiniest amount of energy possible from you. It’s pure bliss, like being drunk and disoriented. The energy of the crowd keeps you half-manic and the energy transfer to Folykl keeps you balanced. 

She’s really just. She’s your perfect counterpart. You touch her lightly on the wrist as you finally lean up against the chain-link fence. 

“Sap,” she says above you. But you can hear the smile in her voice.

It only takes a few minutes of scanning the crowd before you see them.

“Hey!” you call. Very few trolls turn to look at you, but Grubsauce Suprise recognizes your voice. You delight in the way they cringe, the instinct to turn towards a familiar voice warring with their meticulous, apathetic image. “Bulgesuck Suprise!”

At this, they do all turn to you.

“Um, it’s Grubsauce,” slurs a plastered girl with very blunt cut bangs.

You ignore her. “What’s it like to ride my bulge to success?” you shout to her instead. Once you’re sure you have all of their attention, you release your purple and yellow sparks to the air. A few gasp, some taking their palm husks out to record. You didn’t think that was…

At once it hits you. Folykl above you must be feeding off your energy. It’s perfectly perverted. Delightfully deviant. It’s all around just uncomfortable for people who have any shame juice left in their globes. Not you, though. You laugh and laugh as she snorts above you. 

“Well, loverboy,” glad to see Grubfuck Supreme is still as refreshingly original as always. “If you were so successful at shooting us to fame, why are you out there while we’re in here?”

A few highbloods laugh. If this is what passes for humor in their circle, you’ve never been happier to be a lowblood.

“Why the fuck……… would we want to be…….. In…… there?” Folykl jeers. “I can jerk my bulge………… fine…… by myself.”

But any reaction the crown might have had is curtailed by the appearance of the largest blue blood you’ve ever seen. She comes right up to the fence- no qualms about void rot, then- and tells you in no uncertain terms to leave.

“Like I want to get bougie brain worms by sticking around here,” you scoff. In any other situation, you might have stayed to rile her up some more. But tonight, Folykl is particularly hungry and you can’t risk her safety for a bit of fun. 

And you’re still drained from earlier. Your stomach rumbles. Any plans for a dramatic blast-off are dashed. You walk behind the building to gather some strength. Now that you’ve been menaced away, the assholes in the party are content to go back to their vapid conversations and kissing ass.

As expected, the trash is filled with less than perfect hors d'oeuvres and half-finished food. You’re eating well tonight.

Folykl jumps off of you and stumbles forward. “Kuprum.” Her voice is as harsh as you’ve ever heard it.

You scramble forward in an attempt to catch her, but she bats your hands away, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she sways unsteadily. 

“You need to……………… tell me……. When you’re drained.” She glares at you with a heat you can feel on your face. “Unlike…… you……. I’m not a fucking………. Pap handed pansy…… I can…… take. It.” 

“ _ Can _ you take it?” You tilt your voice suggestively. 

She laughs lowly. “You know damn…….. Well….. I can take it.” She juts her chin defiantly. You reach into the pile of discarded food and find an oinkbeast-in-a-snuggleplane to press against her lips. She chuckles around her food before pulling you down with her.

Clowns got paradise all wrong. Right now you are wrapped up in good food and your girlfriend’s mouth on yours. She slips you a sausage as she slips you her tongue. That’s hot. Your fingers brush over hers and then you’re holding hands. Hell yeah.

The music behind you is muffled by the brick building you’re leaning against. Folykl leans forward, resting her forehead on your chest. All of this food is making you sleepy.

“Let’s fuck off,” you say. She nods her head and you take immense satisfaction in holding her in your arms for the first time tonight.

[Line Break]

You take the scenic route.

Well, that might be a matter of opinion. You take the sensory route. Function over form. Folykl is half-awake on your shoulders. 

You double back to let her smell some especially rank trash (she swats lazily at you, asking when the last time you showered was). It takes some time, but you eventually find the place where all of the rainwater has been collecting. Folykl needs no convincing to leave your shoulders; once she hears your splashing footsteps, she demands to be let down. 

She kicks in the water as you lead her home. Absently, she kicks some mud at you. You kick some back, and before you know it the two of you are soaked and sopping with dirt. Thank fuck you’re headed home.

You enjoy these rare moments with her; you don’t need to speak. She brings fun into your life without even trying. 

She slows to a stop, so you pick her up again. Sitting on top of your pack, she’s the tallest troll in the city. 

“The heiress should see us like this,” you joke, hoping she catches on.

“You’d like………. That wouldn’t you,” she kicks her heel into your chest, right against your thumping blood pumper. “Subservient.” She says this word slowly, knowing that four plus syllables take a lot of breath and energy that she doesn’t actually have. You get the gist of her meaning and pinch her between the toes. Her cursing above you is sweeter than the sounds of the city.

You take her through the industrial part of the city. You like it here; bronze bloods leave their thankless career training and generally leave you alone. There are several fans, quiet but powerful, that you bring Folykl through. She laughs in surprise every time a stray gust hits her. By the time you’re almost home, her hair is fluffy and windswept. Your hands are buzzing with how badly you want to smooth it down, back to its greasy splendor.

Her lusus is waiting for you back at your cardboard hivestem. She paces back and forth between the box you sleep in and the box that you hide your electronics in. At the sight of you, she rushes up and you deposit Folykl on her back. Truthfully, Folykl is too big for this now. But that instinct- to nurture and protect- it never goes away. And you get it.

Folykl curls up in the stray wires and snuggle plane pile while you fuck with the sun-proof cover that hangs between the two buildings. There are a few small holes in the fabric from the last rainstorm; you’re going to have to melt some metal again, patch those holes up.

But for now, you turn back to Folykl. She’s grumbling at you, unintelligible but explicitly impatient. You position yourself behind her and hold her close.

“Don’t touch my tits,” she says. 

“If I find any, I’ll leave them alone,” you say, groping her anyway because that’s what she wants you to do. She kicks you in the knee- and fuck, it genuinely hurts- and you bite her on the shoulder. 

Her low laugher is the last thing you hear before drifting off to sleep.

  
  



End file.
